A Give and Take Situation
by PokeyDotes
Summary: It's a give and take situation, a give and take partnership. They each give all they can, and expect the other to take it. Neither expects anything less.
1. Kensi's Perspective

A GIVE AND TAKE SITUATION

At the end of every CPR certification class, the instructors have always distributed a small, laminated card illustrating the proper technique for administering CPR, along with the instructions to 'always have this on your person' printed in small, block letters along the edge of the card. Kensi has always found it to be a somewhat pointless, if not stupid act.

She had never seen the point. The card was given to people who had already been certified to perform CPR, to people who already know what to do without reading the card. No one is going to think, nor have time to pull out his or her wallet and examine the brightly colored illustrations when CPR is actually needed. When she had first pointed this out after her first certification, and subsequently receiving her first laminated card, Hetty had been quick to point out that any extra help, even in the form of laminated assurance or wallet sized confidence would always be appreciated.

Hetty's words are the only reason Kensi didn't throw the card away. Instead, she set it in the top drawer of her desk, adding a new one to it each time she recertifies. Now, as she leans back on her heels, letting her arms rest as the pain in her shoulders screams for attention, she thinks about the dozen or more cards lying haphazardly amongst candy wrappers.

She inhales deeply, fighting back emotion as she allows herself to look down at the all-too still form of the teenaged boy lying in front of her. His eyes are slightly open, almost as though he's caught in the middle of a blink.

She listens as Eric's voice tells her that help is on the way, that Callen and Sam have already cleared the rest of the building. Once Eric stops talking, all of her attention focuses on the sound of her partner counting, each count accented by a heavy breath.

She looks up, and for a brief moment, she actually thinks that she might cry. His head is angled down, the blonde curls falling forward, effectively hiding his face. He steadily presses down on the center of the chest of the boy in front of him, not much older than the one currently lying in front of her.

His forearms are smeared with blood, his hands soaked in it. She's not sure if he even recognizes it, all his attention being focused on his attempts to keep an already-stilled heart beating.

She regrets the moment she looks at the boy's face. His eyes are closed, mouth relaxed, and slightly opened. Each time Deeks pushes down on his chest, the boy's head slightly bobs, keeping tempo with the steady compressions.

She knows the boy is dead. She had known it the moment Deeks had screamed for him to stay awake. She had already begun performing CPR on the second boy when she looked up to see Deeks laying the boy on the ground and following her example.

Watching as her partner desperately refuses to stop, some small, morbid, and pissed off part of her wonders if one of the small laminated cards lying in her desk would have made a difference.

"Deeks." She doesn't remember thinking about what to say, or remember deciding that she would. Either way, she says his name again, each time it's a little louder than before. Each time, he shakes his head, blocking out her voice as he continues to count.

It isn't until Sam and Callen arrive that he finally stops. As soon as they had walked into the room, she had given them a pleading glance, silently begging them to make this stop. A strong hand on his shoulder had been enough to pull Deeks out of his determined trance.

He still has his hands on the boy's chest even though he's no longer pressing down. He looks up and meets Kensi's eyes. Deeks finally moves his hands, causing a wet, suction sound to echo through the silence. He feels as though he's about to be sick. An overwhelming amount of sadness, confusion, and anger pulsing through him all at once.

As Callen looks back and forth between Kensi and Deeks, he quietly tells Eric to cancel the ambulances. After that, no one says anything. No one really knows what to say. Several minutes pass in a heavy silence, Kensi and Deeks each on their knees in front of two dead boys, while Sam and Callen stand beside them.

Eventually, LAPD arrives. Statements are given, and bodies are collected. As the bodies of the two boys are loaded into the back of the coroner's van, Kensi looks to her partner. She sees him watching as one of the police officers gently pushes the van door shut, closing the two boys in with the bodies of their killers. She knows that he shares the same feelings of disgust that's currently dancing in her stomach.

He's leaning against a railing, the yellow paint long ago having begun to rust and peel. His eyes are different than she's used to. She can count the number of times she's seen that look in his eyes. His eyes are full of anger, the silent rage barely contained beneath normally entrancing blue.

She'll never admit it to him, or to anyone else either, but when he looks like this, she feels a bit of fear. She's afraid of what he's thinking, of what he may do. She's afraid of the dark thoughts she knows are swimming through his mind. She's afraid for him, and in a small way, one in which she's ashamed to admit for more reasons than she can count, she's afraid of him.

Never the less, she slowly walks towards him and leans against the rusted, yellow railing. He doesn't say anything, and she doesn't expect him to, although she wishes he would. She knows that the witty, carefree, and annoyingly fun Marty Deeks will eventually come around, smile, and offer her a teasing joke.

But right now, in the parking lot of an abandoned bottling company, he just leans against a railing, a blood soaked towel loosely held between his fingers. She sees where he had tried to wipe away the blood, but his arms are still stained. His fingernails are outlined in an overly bright shade of red, a subtle contrast to the dark stains covering most of his clothing.

She watches as his shoulders slump, as the adrenaline leaves his body. Kensi knows that adrenaline can be a lifesaver. It can keep you going, forcing you to pay attention, and guiding you through an obscenely chaotic situation. It gives you strength even after you know you've lost.

As she watches her silent partner climb into the passenger seat, she realizes that they had already lost the moment they had walked into the room, guns out, eyes focused.

During training, agents are always reminded that safety procedures should be so well-practiced, that they should come as second nature during any op. Always pay attention, always be focused, make it a habit. Next, they are taught to follow their instincts. If something feels wrong, assume it is. If you think it might be dangerous, then treat it like it is. Habit and instinct. Two irreplaceable weapons in any operative's arsenal.

But Kensi knows that sometimes that's not enough. Sometimes you get surprised, and no amount of second nature training or instinct is going to make everything okay. That's when you rely on adrenaline—and even then, it may not be enough.

They knew they had lost. They had known it the moment they turned the corner and saw the two boys. Two boys who previously, the agents had not known existed. They were only supposed to find a handful of low-level arms dealers. Lowlifes trying to play with the big boys. What they were not supposed to find were two teenaged boys, each of their faces covered in tears shed out of fear and shame.

They had done their research. Eric and Nell had learned the names and faces of each of the men responsible for smuggling stolen military grade missiles through southern California. They had been able to learn which ones had a nasty drug habit, which ones had dropped out of high school, and which one had faked his own death in order to get out of the Marines early.

What they hadn't learned was that one had an unhealthy attraction to post-pubescent boys.

Kensi had taken point, quickly entering the room, trusting Deeks to have her back. She had yelled for them to freeze, informing them that she was NCIS. For a brief moment, everyone in the room, agents included, stared in frozen disbelief.

The lowlife arms dealers were shocked that they had been caught. Kensi and Deeks were shocked to see two boys struggling in the arms of a half-dressed, stoned out of his mind, former linebacker. Even more surprised to see an ex-marine standing guard nearby.

Two seconds later, everyone had reacted at once. The younger boy had moved to hide beneath the table he was pinned against, while the second boy continued to fight the man holding them there, who suddenly had a gun pointed at the younger boy's chest. At the same time, the ex-marine began to fire his weapon, not bothering to aim in any specific direction.

Adrenaline can be a lifesaver.

Deeks quickly fired his gun, dropping the disoriented marine before he could get his aim under control. The detective heard three more shots, and quickly turned only to see a mass of bodies entangled around one another.

Kensi was already running towards the fallen boys, shoving the body of their attacker as far away as her strength would allow. She had screamed for Eric to get help, trying her best to roll the boy onto his back without hurting his head.

Her heart nearly broke when she heard the other boy gasping for air, pleading with Deeks to help him. "I don't want to die. Please, I don't want to die." Deeks had pulled the boy into his arms, applying pressure to the steadily bleeding hole in the boy's abdomen.

As she began CPR, she listened to Deeks try and calm the boy. He had told him to hang on, that help was on the way. He had tried asking the boy his name, tried to distract him from the fear and the pain. It hadn't worked. The boy continued to cry, continued to beg not to die.

She felt lost when the boy started to cry out for his mother, completely unaware of where he was. She doesn't know how much time had passed, but she knows it hadn't been long before Deeks was screaming for the boy to stay awake.

Adrenaline can be a lifesaver, but sometimes even that isn't enough.

The drive to the mission is almost quiet. She follows the speed limit, concentrating on the traffic, trying to distract her mind from where she knows it will eventually have to go. They had lost. The missiles had been recovered, all the bad guys are dead, but they still had lost.

She slowly brings the car to a stop at a traffic light. She looks into the car waiting next to her. A middle-aged man with dark-rimmed glasses quickly stuffs several fries into his mouth before wiping his greased fingers on the leg of his trousers. He has no idea what's just happened less than an hour before.

Kensi turns her attention back towards her partner. She sees the muscle in his jaw tense, his eyes still full of anger. She sees his body tense, so she's almost able to prepare herself for it. He suddenly slams a fist against the door of the car, an angry and frustrated cry escaping him as his knuckles come in contact with the door.

He does it two more times before he lets his head fall back against the headrest. He doesn't apologize, nor does he try to explain. He simply stares at the ceiling, completely aware that his partner is watching him closely. He's grateful when she slowly releases the brake and continues to drive towards the mission.

He doesn't want her to ask if he's alright. He doesn't want her to tell him it's not his fault. He wants her to let him think in silence, to grieve for the loss of two boys he didn't know existed. Two boys whose names he still doesn't know. He wants her to do exactly what she's doing, and he's grateful that she does.

She considers taking him straight home, skipping the mission and letting him vent in the comfort of his own home. But she doesn't. She doesn't want him to be alone. She'll give him his space, but until the anger leaves his eyes, she isn't letting him be by himself.

She parks in her usual parking space, and waits. She waits to see if he's going to finally say something, if he's going to get mad and hit something again, if he's at least going to get out of the car. She watches as the clock on her dashboard changes twice. She knows he doesn't want to move, so she silently pushes him to.

She opens her door, and climbs out of the car, shutting the door with enough force to earn his attention. She watches through the window as he turns his head and looks at her, his eyes still angry, but a mixture of sadness can now be seen.

She offers a short smile, and although he doesn't return it, he does get out of the car, shutting the door with as much force as she had.

When they walk into the mission, most people try to pretend that they aren't staring. She sees Nell's slightly alarmed face at the state of Deeks' clothes, and for the first time she looks down at herself.

Her knees are covered in blood, several lines trailing down towards her feet from where the blood had soaked through. She has two handprints on her thighs. She knows that the prints are hers; they had appeared after she braced her hands on her legs to stand up after their backup had finally arrived. There are small smears of browning blood on her light blue shirt. It's still nothing compared to the amount of blood currently soaked into all of Deeks' clothes.

She hadn't held the boy in her arms. He had.

Deeks continues to walk past the desks, heading towards the gym, and she knows, the showers. She catches Sam's eyes, and he offers her a short nod, trying to give her strength to help her partner. Or at least that's how she interprets it. Callen just watches Deeks walk by, gives a quick look towards Kensi, and then sits at his desk. He knows there's nothing he can do, nothing he can say to make either of them feel better—so he doesn't.

She returns Eric's shy smile before she follows her partner into the gym. She sees two people holding a basketball, both completely having forgotten about their game. She knows it's because they had just seen Deeks, seen the anger and the blood.

She ignores them as they turn their attention to her. She keeps her pace, quietly walking in the direction of the showers. She feels relief when she sees him walking towards one of the shower stalls. She ignores the fact that she had been worried.

Kensi expects him to turn and acknowledge that she's there, to realize that he doesn't have any clothes to change into, doesn't have a towel. She expects him to get angry again, to start crying, to show some kind of emotion.

But he's Deeks, so he doesn't do what she expects. She watches in silence as he takes his shirt off, pulling it over his head and letting it fall to the floor. She doesn't focus on the sun-kissed tone of his skin, on the well-defined muscles shaping his back, or on the smooth definition of his abs, tapering off beneath his belt. Instead, she focuses on the sticky red that soaked through his shirt, smearing on his skin.

He walks into one of the stalls and turns on the hot water. She sees him shudder as the freezing water covers his body before it begins to warm. He's still wearing his shoes, his pants. She notices that his gun is missing, and she turns to look around. When she spots it, his wallet, and his phone lying on a bench, she realizes that he must have removed them before she made it into the room.

When she turns back to face him, she sees the steam from the heated water begin to flow out of the small stall. He has one arm propped against the shower wall, his head resting on his forearm. She sees the water around his feet dyed a bright pink as the blood is washed away.

When she notices his skin begin to take on a painful red color, she steps into the shower with him, immediately turning on the cold water. She flinches when some of the scalding water splashes onto her. She feels the heat slowly become tolerable, and she lets her hand fall to his arm.

He tilts his head, keeping his forehead firmly pressed against his arm on the wall. To some degree, she's relieved to see that there is no longer anger in his eyes. However, the fact that it's been completely consumed by sadness causes a sharp pain to shoot though her chest. She raises a brow, and asks in a soft, yet serious voice, "Are you planning on streaking through the gym?"

She wishes he would respond in kind, make some sly comment about her being in the shower with him, or tease her by saying, "I will if you will." Instead, he gives her a tired smile, and she takes it. She squeezes his arm once before stepping out of the shower, her entire right side now soaked. "I'll be right back," she promises as she leaves to find their lockers.

As soon as she walks out of the showers, she finds Hetty waiting patiently against the far wall. Her hands are behind her back, and her head held high.

"Hetty," is all Kensi can think to say. She's grateful that the smaller woman doesn't require more. Instead, Hetty replies in a way that lets the agent know that she understands.

"Ms. Blye," Hetty nods her head once before pointing a finger towards the showers, "Is he okay?"

Kensi closes her eyes, fighting back the desire to say 'he's fine'. She inhales deeply through her nose as she decides to tell the truth. "No, but he will be." She has no doubt.

Hetty folds her hands in front of her. She doesn't tell Kensi to take care of him. She doesn't have to. Both women know that Kensi will do it, whether or not she's told. He's her partner. Part of being partners is to give and take. It's her turn to give.

Hetty nods once more before gesturing to two small, black, gym bags resting against the wall, with several large, white towels lying on top. Kensi just smiles, offering a quick 'thanks', before bending and grabbing the bags and towels.

When Kensi walks back into the showers, she notices that Deeks had pulled the curtain closed, the remainder of his clothes resting in a saturated pile just outside the stall.

She sets his bag down beside the pile, making sure to not get his towels wet before climbing into a separate stall. She lets the water run over her, as she focuses on her breathing, consciously trying to keep the rhythm steady and calm.

She hurries to get out of the shower first, knowing he'll stay in until the timer goes off, if not longer. After she pulls a clean t-shirt on, she grabs her towel and begins running it through her hair. She steps out of the shower and starts to gather her ruined clothes, emptying her pockets before tossing the beloved jeans into the garbage.

She's still drying her hair when she hears him push the shower curtain open. She doesn't turn around, giving him time to cover up in case he hadn't expected, or cared that she was still there.

She jumps slightly when he drops his gym bag on the bench beside her. She looks up to see him standing in just a towel, all traces of blood gone. His hair is heavy from the water, the curls hanging low over his eyes with the extra weight. It's also darker than usual, making his eyes appear even bluer than she's used to.

She smiles internally when she sees that his eyes almost look familiar, almost look like they belong to him again.

She stands and tosses her towel into the hamper before gesturing to his clothes. He just shakes his head, letting her know that it's okay for her to throw them away. Before she walks out, she sets his wet shoes on the bench near him, earning a small smile in thanks.

She's setting at her desk, wet hair pulled to one side as she stares at the blank computer screen in front of her. She knows she should type up the report now, while its still fresh in her mind, but all she can focus on is the doorway leading to the gym. She keeps waiting for him to walk out.

This time he doesn't disappoint. He exits the gym, walks straight past their desks, and heads for the parking lot. Just before he walks out of sight, he turns and smiles, quickly saying, "See ya, Kensi," before walking away.

Any other day that would have been okay. She would have smiled back, shouted a quick "Later, Deeks," and then gone back to her report. Only this time she doesn't. He had smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. His smiles always reach his eyes. He's one of those people who smiles with his whole face, and she wants it to stay that way.

Staring at the blank report in front of her, she feels a strong feeling of frustration building inside her chest. Every muscle twitching with the need to fix whatever's wrong. Only she knows that she can't. This is one of those things where you just have to sit and wait it out. Wait for time to pass. Wait, because they had lost.

She slams the computer shut, quickly grabs her keys and all but runs to her car. She's surprised when she steps outside. The sun is still up, sunset only about an hour or so away. She had expected it to be later. So much had happened since they had walked into the room with the boys that it seems impossible that it's still the same day.

As she climbs in her car, she realizes that in reality, not much _has_ happened. They wrapped up the scene and immediately came back to the mission. Nothing else. When she turns in her seat to check her blind spots as she backs out of her parking spot, she catches a glimpse of Deeks' jacket. He had tossed it there before they had gone into the building.

Not a lot has happened physically, but too much has happened emotionally.

She tries to think about what he needs. What would he want? She isn't used to this side of Deeks. She's used to him smoothing everything over with a joke. But this isn't something you can joke about. There isn't anything that happened in that old building that can be taken lightly.

Knowing what he would do if it were her, she turns on her blinker and switches lanes. An hour later, she finds herself outside of his apartment. One meat lover's supreme pizza and a six pack of beer in either hand.

She tries balancing the beer between her arm and her body as she knocks on the door. When no one answers, she knocks again, this time calling his name, letting him know it's her.

She starts to get angry when he still won't answer. She had seen his car in the parking lot; she knows he has to be home. Grabbing hold of the beer again, she starts kicking the bottom of the door with her boot, ignoring the fact that his neighbors could be home. "Deeks, open the freaking door!"

She almost drops the pizza when she hears his voice come from behind her. "Well isn't this nice."

"What?" she asks, turning to see him with Monty, a leash wrapped loosely around his wrist.

"A beautiful woman with beer and a big ass pizza trying to kick in my door. I'd say that's a good way to end a day." He smiles again, and this one's closer to how it should be.

"Well, this beautiful woman was getting ready to kick your ass." She steps aside as he unlocks the door, pushing it inwards and stepping back so she can enter first.

"I took Monty for a walk." He tosses the leash on the coffee table before grabbing a ball and tossing it towards the dog.

She hands him the pizza as she sits on the couch. Opening a beer, she watches as Monty brings the ball back, waiting for his owner to throw it again. "You spoil that dog."

"If you had a dog, you'd spoil him too."

"Now why would I want a dog when I've already got you?"

"Oh, Agent Blye's going for the win, ladies and gentlemen."

She gives him a quick smirk before taking a sip of her beer. He leans back on the couch, taking the biggest slice of pizza and opening a beer of his own. He's halfway through with his first piece of pizza before either of them speak. He keeps his eyes fixed on the large grease stain on the bottom of the pizza box, "So, did you want to talk or watch TV?" he asks.

He almost laughs when he turns to see Kensi taking a large bite out of her second slice of pizza, shrugging and answering around a mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. He assumes the muffled sound that escaped her mouth was intended to be 'whatever you want', so he takes the remote and turns on the TV.

Both are happy to pretend for now that the day hadn't ended badly. Both are happy to put off the rest of the feelings and emotions that they know are bottled up. Tomorrow they can deal with it all. Because right now, it's a give and take situation. You give what you should, and you take what you can.

They're trying to give each other a way to move past what they had seen happening to those two boys. They're trying to cope with the fact that they watched two boys, barely teenagers, bleed to death in the middle of nowhere. Two boys whose names they still don't know.

Right now, they're taking advantage of the opportunity to relax without worry. Because right now they don't have to talk about what had happened. They can wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow he'll ask her if she's okay before she has a chance to ask him. He'll pretend that he hadn't gotten emotional, and he'll pretend to not notice everyone else pretending the same thing.

Tomorrow she'll ease her frustration at the shooting range, do overtime in the gym. She'll ignore the looks of concern the rest of the team will give her and her partner, and only acknowledge that either of them had acted out of the ordinary when Hetty asks, which Kensi knows she will.

But right now, Kensi and Deeks sit in comfortable silence, watching reality TV, each making fun of the other's reaction to the overly melodramatic ramblings of would-be stars.

It's almost midnight before they finally decide to turn off the TV. Looking at the empty beer bottles, Deeks turns and sees his partner yawn, her eyes taking a second longer than they should to open back up.

"Kens, you good to get home?"

She looks at the remains of their dinner spread out along the coffee table. She gives a tight-lipped smile before asking, "Any chance I can crash here?"

She regrets it almost immediately. His grin is back, his eyes lighting up with the possibilities.

He leans his head back, slowly nodding as the grin stays in place. "Well, I guess I should have expected this."

"What do you mean?" she asks, preparing herself for where she knows he's about to go.

"I mean we did shower together, it's only natural that you'd want…"

"Deeks, stop right there."

"What? You…"

"That's it. I'm going home." She moves to get off the couch, grabbing for her discarded shoes when he reaches for her arm.

"Wait, Kensi. I'm stopping. Stopping now." He holds his hands up in defense, but the grin is still there.

He stands and gives her a spare pillow and blanket. Raising his eyebrows suggestively, he smirks, saying, "You know, I've got a big bed…"

"Deeks."

"You know, sometimes you say my name with the same venom as you would a four-letter word."

She just grins as she unfolds the blanket. "Goodnight, Deeks."

"Goodnight, Kensi."

She's glad he's back, happy that he's capable of being himself. That means she can be herself again.

It's a give and take situation, a give and take partnership. They each give all they can, and expect the other to take it. Neither expects anything less.

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	2. Deeks' Perspective

**A/N: This is essentially the same story, only focusing more on what was going on in Deeks' mind, as suggested by . Keep in mind, it's difficult to try and write the same story twice.**

** Thank you, to all who have reviewed. I really wasn't expecting that kind of response, but again, Thank you.**

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A GIVE AND TAKE SITUATION

DEEKS' PERSPECTIVE

"Deeks." He ignores the sound of her voice, ignores the softness of it telling him exactly what he's afraid to accept. He keeps counting, continuing to push on the center of the boy's chest. He won't stop, he can't. This is just a kid, a kid who twenty seconds ago was still alive, crying for his mother.

He hears her call his name again, but he just shakes his head. He can't stop. But then he does. All it takes is a strong hand on his shoulder, and he finally stops. His heart is beating, pushing violently against his rib cage. The adrenaline pulsing through him causes his hands to shake.

His heart is beating, but the boy's isn't.

He looks towards Kensi, overwhelmed at the feeling of hopelessness clouding his thoughts. When he sees the sadness in her mismatched eyes, he accepts that they're gone, that both boys are dead. Slowly, he lets his hands fall to his sides, fighting back the nausea caused by the immense amount of blood coating his arms.

He hears Callen cancel the ambulance, and he lets his eyes close. He thinks over the last few minutes. That's all it's been. Less than five minutes ago, he was climbing out of Kensi's car, laughing as they readied themselves to confront a group of armed men. At the time, Deeks had thought the worst thing the men were capable of was treason. As he sits, feeling the blood of a boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen soak through his jeans, he realizes how wrong he had been.

Deeks remembers the twisted, perverse grin that had been on the face of the boys' attacker before he acknowledged that Deeks and Kensi had stormed in. He remembers the look of indifference on the former Marine's. He remembers the looks of fear on the boys' faces as they fought against what was happening, neither knowing it was almost over.

Deeks lets the anger consume him, he welcomes it. Anger is easier to deal with. He allows it to push aside the sadness that threatens to break him. As he listens to the approaching sirens signaling the arrival of their backup, he lets the anger assume control, guiding him through the motions he knows he needs to make.

He doesn't say anything when Sam hands him a small hand towel. He just stands and backs out of the way as a technician begins taking pictures of the two dead boys. He follows Kensi and Sam towards a man in a dark, grey suit.

When asked, Deeks tells the suit what happened. He tells him that he followed his partner, gun raised, ready to shoot if need be. He tells him about finding two men who didn't deserve to live, and two boys who did.

But when Deeks tells the suit that he had performed CPR in an attempt to save the boy's life, he leaves out the part about the boy screaming for help, pleading with anyone who would listen, saying that he didn't want to die. Deeks doesn't tell the suit that the boy had cried for his mother before his eyes had closed and his heart stopped beating. Deeks doesn't tell anyone that he had wanted to cry with him.

When the man in the dark, grey suit smiles a forced smile and offers a hollowed 'thanks', Deeks just nods his head, holding on to the anger fueled by the suit's apparent apathy towards what had happened.

He just leans against a railing, watching as body bags are loaded into a van, one after another. He keeps his eyes on the van as he uses the hand towel to wipe away at the blood. It's sticky and clings to the towel. It isn't until he sees two officers approaching, each holding on to a bag whose inhabitant is much too small that he lets his hands drop, the towel hanging loosely between his fingers.

As the last body bag is loaded into the van, he sees his partner slowly, cautiously approach him. He takes a deep breath, letting his shoulders fall as the van pulls away. He feels the old railing shift as Kensi's weight rests against it. He knows she's watching him, gauging his reaction. He knows he should say something, should tell her that he's fine, or ask whether or not she is, but he doesn't. Right now, all Deeks wants to do is scream and let out all of the frustration that's been building over the last half-hour.

He doesn't know how to do it, though. He doesn't want to surf. He doesn't want to associate anything he loves with this situation, with this day. He wants to escape, to run away from all of the emotions pulling him in different directions.

Deeks tosses the stained hand towel towards the ground as he pushes himself from the railing. Not knowing what else to do, he starts walking towards Kensi's car, trusting that she'll be right behind him.

He doesn't notice as the endless parking lots and abandoned industrial buildings begin to blend into the horizon of the city. Neon signs dimmed by the brightness of an LA afternoon blink in the shade of palm trees and high-rise buildings.

As the car comes to a stop, he finally takes the time to look around. He knows that they're close to the mission, a few more miles and he can start to put this day behind him.

He starts thinking about the boys, knowing that their bodies are halfway to the county morgue. He thinks about their last moments, the fear and pain they must have felt. Slowly, he starts to wonder about who they were, what had happened for them to end up in that abandoned building in the middle of nowhere.

Who were they? Deeks stares at the dashboard as he realizes that he doesn't know anything about them. He wonders what they would have been doing if they hadn't ended up in that building with those men. They had probably just started noticing girls. He doesn't know whether they were the type of boys to play video games and waste hours in front of a computer, or the outdoors type, constantly keeping busy. Deeks tries to remember if there had been any sign that the boys had been into sports—muscle definition, a tan. All he can remember is that they were small, and that there had been too much blood.

He wants to get back to the mission, wants to go home and try to forget that any of this ever happened. As Deeks begins thinking that tomorrow he'll have a chance to start over, to try and make it a better day than today, he feels the familiar weight of guilt start to build in his chest. The boys aren't going to get tomorrow.

The guilt mingles with the anger, each emotion fighting for control, and Deeks can't take it. He wants to scream, to hurt someone, to let all of his anger out. So he does. He tightens his fist and slams it into the side of the door as hard as he can. He screams as he feels the temporary release of frustration. He hits the door two more times before falling back in his seat.

He stares at the ceiling, concentrating on the pain in his hand, which is preferable to the pain in his chest. He sees Kensi staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He waits for her to say something, but prays that she won't. When the car slowly starts to move again, he lets out a shaky breath he hadn't known he was holding.

He refuses to cry. Not because he doesn't want Kensi to see, but because he isn't ready to face those emotions yet. He knows he'll have to, but he's determined to push them aside for as long as possible.

He keeps waiting for Kensi to try and force him to talk, for her to ask him to tell her what he's thinking. He knows that before this case is filed away, he'll hear at least one person tell him that there wasn't anything he could have done differently, that there's no reason for him to feel guilt. They've all seen innocent people die; it's an inevitable hazard in this line of work. Knowing that doesn't make it any easier.

He's brought out of his thoughts by the slamming of a door. He turns and sees Kensi staring at him, one eyebrow raised high as a shy smile forms on her lips. For a moment, he wonders how she does that, how she's still able to smile after what they've just seen. Then he remembers that she's seen it before. Death is an inevitable hazard.

He feels the sadness return, pushing at the anger. For a moment, he fears that the anger will leave, and he'll be left in her car a broken mess. When he realizes that he isn't going to last the night before he breaks down, the anger comes back. He pushes the door open and climbs out of the car before slamming it shut behind him.

He doesn't say anything as Kensi walks in step with him, her shoulder barely ghosting against his. They walk into the mission, and he can feel the atmosphere shift with their presence. Though no one quits talking, the general volume of the room lowers a considerable amount as everyone takes in the disheveled and blood smeared appearance of the two partners.

They only stare a second before they're back to their work, each trying to act as though they hadn't been caught off guard by the gory display. The look on Nell's face is enough to force the anger aside. The barely concealed horror that had momentarily shined through her eyes is enough to let him know that it's as bad as it looks.

He pushes past his partner, wanting to hurry to the showers but not finding the strength to move faster. As he walks through the doorway leading to the gym, he hears the sound of sneakers squeaking against the varnished floor, the occasional echo of the ball bouncing.

Deeks is so focused on getting to the showers that he doesn't notice when the squeaking of the shoes stops or when the playful trash talk morphs into hushed whispers. He just keeps walking, trying to find the anger again, but failing to find anything but sadness.

The showers are empty, the mirrors outlined with dozens of beads of water from the steam of a previous shower, letting Deeks know that someone had recently been there. He catches a glimpse of his reflection, and immediately turns away as he feels the nausea from earlier make itself known.

Out of habit, he reaches for his gun. Pulling it out of its holster, he sets it on one of the benches in front of the mirrors. Slowly, he removes his phone and badge, adding them to the bench. With each movement, he feels where the blood has dried his clothes to his skin, creating an uncomfortable reminder of how much blood the boy had lost.

A part of him registers that the door has opened, but he doesn't turn to see who it is. He doesn't care. Instead, he pulls his shirt up over his head, swallowing back the bile as he feels the dried blood trying to cling the shirt to his skin.

It's too much. He doesn't want to be covered in the boy's blood any longer. Stepping forward, he quickly turns on the hot water, bracing himself for the temporary cold. He lets his head rest against his arm, allowing the wall to hold his weight as he watches the blood slowly dissolve from his chest.

He tries focusing on the swirls of pink gathering and disappearing at his feet, on the steadily increasing heat falling on his neck before covering his back. It isn't until he feels the presence of someone standing next to him that he knows who had opened the door after him. He should have known it was her all along.

He hears her hiss as the water burns her skin. Several seconds pass as he wonders if she's going to say anything. It isn't until the water cools, relieving the burning sting on his skin that he feels her hand on his arm. The small gesture almost does him in. He feels the anger leave and accepts the fact that the sadness has won.

Her shy smile turns into a sad one as she squeezes his arm, softly asking if he had planned on streaking. He surprises himself when he manages to smile back, the absurdity of worrying about clothes a welcomed reprieve from the nightmare replaying in his mind.

She squeezes his arm once more before stepping out of the shower. Promising she'll be right back, she quickly turns and makes her way towards the door. As soon as she's out of site, he lets the sadness take control.

He turns and lets his back slide down the wall, stopping only when he's made contact with the tiled floor of the shower. He presses his palms to his eyes as a single heavy sob shakes his body. He stays like that, counting to ten before letting his hands fall from his face.

As he moves to straighten his legs, he feels the uncomfortable feeling of water trapped in his shoes. Looking at his blood soaked jeans, he quickly kicks off his shoes before standing to unbuckle his belt. He has to push down to remove the saturated clothing.

He lets the clothes fall to the floor with a sound that can only be associated with a heavy wetness. Closing the curtain behind him, he works to make sure the water removes all traces of the boy's blood from his body, paying extra attention to the dark red trapped along his nail beds.

He's almost embarrassed when he realizes silent tears are mixing with the tepid water. He doesn't try to stop them, choosing instead to let them fall while he focuses his attention on removing the now invisible blood.

The metallic echo of the adjacent stall's curtain rings sliding across a metal bar alerts him to his partner's return. He steadies his breathing as he turns his face towards the showerhead, trying to let the now cool water rinse away any evidence that he had been crying. It's calming and helps drain the remaining frustration out of his body.

He waits for Kensi's shower to end, wanting to give her time to leave before he steps out of the stall. Somehow, he already knows that she'll be waiting for him. He takes one last look at his hands, insuring that they're clear of blood before he peaks through the shower curtain.

He isn't surprised to see Kensi sitting on the bench, steadily running a towel through her hair, but he is surprised to find his gym bag and a towel on the floor, carefully placed within his reach. For a moment, he feels stupid for having not thought past getting in the shower, but he quickly pushes that feeling aside when he remembers how he felt when he had first walked into the shower room.

He bends down and grabs the towel, wrapping it around his waist before grabbing the gym bag and walking towards the bench. He drops the bag on the bench, but regrets it when he sees Kensi flinch from the unexpected sound.

He watches as she turns towards him, her dark eyes meeting his. For a moment she looks worried, the concern etched on her face enhanced by her sharp features. But after a moment, he thinks he sees relief break through the worry. He isn't sure, and he doesn't have time to really see before she stands and tosses her towel towards the hamper and moves to gather his ruined clothes.

He stares at the small, black bag sitting on the bench until he hears his partner leave, listening for the slow squeak of the door's hinges grinding together as the door closes behind her. He pulls out a worn pair of sweatpants, and begins the task of getting dressed.

He allows himself to fully look at his reflection this time, focusing on the fact that he sees no traces of what had happened in that abandoned building. He grabs a handful of paper towels and wets them in the sink before grabbing his gun and scrubbing at the bloody handprints.

Watching as each towel gradually turns to pink, Deeks questions why the color had ever been labeled as 'feminine'. Eventually, he manages to remove the small smudges of blood decorating his phone and badge. He grabs his wet shoes and heads towards his locker, hoping he has an extra pair of sneakers hidden within the small, overcrowded space.

He tightens the laces, deliberating taking his time, prolonging the moment before he has to sit at his desk and face the rest of the team. He stands in the darkness of the empty locker room, trace amount of light shining through the small, overhead windows serving as the room's only source of illumination.

Eventually, he starts walking. Car keys in hand, he decides he isn't ready to talk to anyone yet. He doesn't want to have to sit and write out everything that had gone wrong in the old building. Everything had gone wrong, only it had started long before he or Kensi had arrived.

He keeps his head down, careful not to meet anyone's eyes as he walks past the desks. As soon as his hand is on the door leading to the parking lot, he turns and manages a smile as he tells his partner bye.

He squints his eyes against the sun's rays, which are still bright despite its low position in the sky. He feels as though he's on autopilot, moving along as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened. He makes each turn, each stoplight as though all of his attention is focused on getting home, except it's not.

He constantly replays the moments before they had walked into the building. He had felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the momentary fear that something could go wrong. He remembers taking off his jacket, smiling as Kensi slammed on the brakes, sending gravel flying before they both jumped out of the car.

He had laughed. Laughed and made some ridiculous comment about her driving, something about the Dukes of Hazzard. She had laughed, too, deciding to take it as a compliment. That was before they had gone into the building. Before they had learned about the two boys.

He pulls in front of his building, shutting the car off and letting the autopilot fade. He waves at a passing neighbor, giving a hurried hello before disappearing into his apartment.

Leaning against his front door, Deeks feels lost. There's no feeling of comfort, no sense that it's okay to relax. He feels too exhausted to go out. He doesn't trust himself to drink, at least not alone. No matter how much he could try, he knows his mind is too wired for him to just go to bed.

As Monty stretches from his corner by the couch, Deeks smiles and bends to scratch the dog behind his ears. The dog is happy, oblivious to his owner's discomfort. Grabbing the leash, Deeks opens the door and leads Monty towards the beach.

He doesn't walk far, no more than a mile from home. Normally he'd take Monty towards the pier, letting him off his leash so he can snap at the waves as they come in. Now, he keeps him close, wrapping the leash around his wrist to close the distance.

Looking around, he sees people continuing as though it were any other day. Several people stop to watch the sunset, one woman trying to get her small, unwilling sun to pose for a picture. Deeks feels a small laugh work its way through him as the toddler continues to ignore his mother's pleas. "James, look at Mommy. Come on, look at the camera. James David, please. Wave at Mommy."

Deeks doesn't stay to watch the sun set. Instead, he turns his back to the horizon, choosing to watch as the shadows grow along the pavement leading back towards his apartment. He doesn't want to be told that he needs to talk about it, or that he needs to move on, accept that bad things happen. He knows he needs something, but at the moment, he has no idea what it is.

As he starts to climb the stairs to his apartment, he feels Monty tense at his side. The dog's ears are perked, and Deeks can tell that he's alert but not threatened. As they near the top of the stairs, Deeks smiles when he sees a clearly pissed off Kensi.

"Deeks, open the freaking door!"

His smile grows, and the words are out of his mouth before his mind can protest. "Well, isn't this nice?"

He lets the banter play out, allowing it to hide the grief, letting it pull him back where he wants to be. He's happy when she pushes him for a response, stubbornly being Kensi. But as they settle on the couch, he braces himself, preparing for the emotional confrontation. Logically, he knows that there's nothing neither he nor Kensi could have done differently. No one knew the boys were there, no one knew there were going to be hostages.

He sits in silence, only deciding to speak when Kensi reaches for her second slice of pizza. "So, did you want to talk or watch TV?" Once again, he doesn't know which he wants, but he gladly reaches for the remote after she gracefully leaves the choice up to him.

As they argue over which show to watch, he realizes that she's probably just as lost as he is. She doesn't know what to say just as much as he doesn't know what he wants to hear.

They sit side by side, him choking on his beer when Kensi snorts as a woman with too much make-up cries when she's voted off the show, or Kensi kicking him when he decides to judge the contestants based off of their looks.

"Come on, Kensi. They ALL suck equally. The only way to decide on a winner is to pick the hottest."

Another kick to his side. "Sorry. Cutest?"

The night goes on, each settling in to the comfort of the routine, the familiarity of their partnership. Bad things are going to happen, they always have. It's even okay to let it bring you down from time to time. The hard part is not letting it keep you down.

He knows he had fallen, even if only for a moment. As he readies for bed, he thinks about his partner, about the two boys, and the men responsible for their deaths. He knows Eric and Nell will figure out who the boys were, who they had been. He knows that the men who had ended their lives can never hurt anyone else again. And he knows that his partner will be there tomorrow, constantly pushing him, giving him what he needs to be himself and to get through the day.

Because sometimes death is a part of the job, and there's nothing anyone can do to change it. He can only rely on his partner, try his best to have her back, and make sure he's there when she needs help, because he knows she's doing the same for him.

It's a give and take situation, a give and take partnership. They each give all they can, and expect the other to take it. Neither expects anything less.

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